


Beta

by msraven



Series: Universe Hopping [4]
Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover Pairings, Get Together, M/M, Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the Beta universe of my earlier fic, Yente.</p>
<p>
  <i>Phil knew that his own face exposed nothing, his eyes masked and hidden behind dark, reflective sunglasses, but his heartbeat quickened at the feeling Brandt could see through it all down to his core. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Standard spoiler warnings apply for both The Avengers and Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol.

_It’s always the eyes_ , Phil thinks as he stares over the barrel of a gun into William Brandt’s. He can already feel a trickle of blood from where Brandt's precisely placed shot had grazed his eyebrow and yet the first thing that comes to Phil’s mind is how ridiculously attractive Brandt looks holding a gun. 

Phil has a thing about eyes. Windows to the soul is a romantic hyperbole, but most people aren’t as well versed in masking their eyes as they are their facial expressions. Even fewer people are as good at reading people’s eyes as they are their body language. Phil is very good at the former and excellent at the latter. He has always been drawn to people’s eyes, making him very conscious of his own, and both skills had served him well in his chosen profession. 

The last time Phil had seen William Brandt was a year ago and across a conference room table. It was at the annual meeting that boasted inter-agency cooperation, but typically resulted in nothing more than the agency heads gaining a few pounds from indulging in too many lavish dinners. Phil was standing behind Fury and Hill, watching as the IMF Secretary's new Chief Analyst fidgeted nervously across the table. Brandt’s eyes shifted restlessly around the table and it would have been easy to dismiss it as yet another nervous tick. Even Phil had been ready to look past the younger man, but a nagging instinct told Phil to pause and look closer, which was when Brandt’s eyes unerringly met his. 

Phil struggled to show no outward sign of his reaction to being caught in William Brandt’s gaze. This was no nervous tick. This was Brandt casing and categorizing every person in the room, done at such a speed that it looked like no more than a deferential glance. Phil knew that his own face exposed nothing, his eyes masked and hidden behind dark, reflective sunglasses, but his heartbeat quickened at the feeling Brandt could see through it all down to his core. 

Brandt’s eyes lingered on Phil for a beat longer before they flickered in amusement. A corner of Brandt’s mouth lifted minutely and Phil let his chin drop a fraction of an inch in response. Brandt had clearly recognized Phil’s attempt to blend into the background and Phil was man enough to admit when he was caught. Then Brandt’s gaze shifted, making a slow sweep down and up Phil’s body, before quickly moving back to the top of the table and away. Phil suddenly found his heartbeat quickening for an entirely different reason. 

William Brandt was distracting. Phil’s reason for being at the meeting was similar to Brandt’s - watch for what the other heads were _not_ saying in addition to what they were - but his attention continued to stray toward the Chief Analyst. He found Brandt’s nervousness, which was obviously not faked, incredibly endearing when compared to all the posturing and chest pounding being done at the table. There was no question that the man was attractive and Phil spent an embarrassing amount of time watching the changing light create rainbows in the younger man’s eyes. Phil groaned inwardly when he realized what he’d been doing and felt like kicking his own ass for being such a sap. He was acting like a hormonal teenager. 

Phil told himself he was allowed one last look and caught Brandt looking right back. Once again, Phil knew there was no outwardly discernible way to see what direction he was looking in, but this didn’t seem to matter to Brandt. The analyst startled, ducked his head, and actually blushed. Phil came to two quick conclusions: one, he was becoming infatuated with William Brandt and two, he didn’t mind at all. 

Unsurprisingly for Phil’s life, that was the exact moment that his phone buzzed in his pocket, signaling the need to make a quick exit to fend off a Stark-related nightmare. The Stark incident turned into several and while Phil had looked up Brandt’s information, too much time had passed for contacting him to look like anything but creepy. Phil’s only option was to wait for another opportunity to approach the Chief Analyst. 

Brandt, it seemed, had taken the idea of inter-agency collaboration to heart, setting up a system for the various agencies to flag planned ops where jurisdiction could be questioned. Initially, it was used only by Brandt and his team of analysts, but then the IMF set the ultimate example by stepping away from an op and letting the FBI complete the take down of an international arms dealer. Phil knew Brandt must have played a large part in convincing the Secretary to allow the change, but it worked. Suddenly everyone was using Brandt’s system to flag ops and share information on targets being watched by multiple agencies. The amount of information being openly shared between agencies was unprecedented and Phil had to give Brandt points for being so devoted to the cause. 

It was when MI-6 and Scotland Yard started posting information that Phil finally saw the system for what it was - an intelligence goldmine. In addition to the general benefit of information sharing, Brandt also had a map of the interagency spider web that covered the globe. He could see who and what was being watched and by whom, determine where holes existed that needed patching, and identify any brewing hotspots before anyone else knew they existed. Any of the other agencies could extract the information, but it would be a painstaking process. IMF and Brandt had access to the raw data, had had it from the beginning, and had likely set up their internal monitoring for this exact purpose. The arms dealer wasn’t a concession, it was a well calculated move that had worked flawlessly. William Brandt was a genius, an assessment that Fury wholeheartedly agreed with when Phil shared his conclusions at their next staff meeting. 

“What we should be asking ourselves,” Fury said with a pointed look in Phil’s direction, “is not why we didn’t see this earlier or create it ourselves, but how the hell we get Brandt to leave IMF for SHIELD.”

Thirty-six hours later, the Kremlin blew up, IMF instituted Ghost Protocol, and William Brandt disappeared. The speed in which all the other agencies recoiled from the IMF and anything possibly connected to Moscow was impressive. A frustratingly small amount of information trickled in. They received word the next morning that the IMF Secretary’s body had been found floating in the Moskva River. Then there were rumors about an incident in Dubai and nobody could ignore the missile that had fizzled before landing San Francisco Bay. It appeared as though an IMF team had managed to stop an impending nuclear strike without any support from the IMF or any other agency. Details were scarce, even after the IMF was reinstated, and the only name that was leaking out, as was typical of IMF-saves-the-world events, was Ethan Hunt’s. 

Months passed and there was still no word from or about William Brandt. His interagency system sat unused since Ghost Protocol. It was common knowledge that the Secretary rarely traveled without his newly promoted Chief Analyst - something that hadn’t been true with past chiefs. It spoke volumes about the Secretary’s belief in Brandt’s skills, but also meant that chances were high Brandt had been in that SUV with the Secretary. Phil tried and failed not to think about the various scenarios that all lead to the same outcome. The idea of Brandt’s body left unknown and unclaimed in the middle of Russia produced stronger emotions than Phil would have expected from only meeting the man once with no words exchanged.

Feeling strange about mourning a man he barely knew, Phil started researching what he could about William Brandt. He learned about Brandt’s childhood in San Francisco and even found a hilarious high school yearbook photo. Phil read about how Brandt had excelled at the Air Force Academy, eventually catching the eye of an IMF recruiter. Brandt’s field record was filled with commendations until a very sudden departure into the analyst ranks after an op in Croatia. Phil’s instincts told him there was something deeper there, but he couldn’t dig further without alerting both SHIELD and the IMF.

Phil had just convinced himself to drop this strange obsession with William Brandt when he received an alert about an upcoming IMF op in New York. Someone was using Brandt’s system again and Phil couldn’t help grinning in the confines of his office when he read the brief. William Brandt was alive, if the signature on the alert was to be believed, and still Chief Analyst. Phil then read the rest of the alert, stopped grinning, and walked quickly to Fury’s office. 

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Phil’s recommendation to respond was overruled, which is why he now found himself kneeling over an unconscious Ethan Hunt and looking down the lethal end of Brandt’s gun. 

Brandt’s eyes widen in recognition before they narrow accusingly.

“Is he?” he asks Phil with a small motion towards Hunt. 

“Alive,” Phil responds. “Just stunned.”

“Aragorn is alive, but down,” Brandt says and Phil is glad they thought to patch into the IMF comm.

“Gimli thirty seconds behind you,” replies a female voice. 

“Where’s the drive, Gandalf?” Brandt asks.

“He’s down the corridor,” comes another voice and Phil registers the accent. “Looks like he got held up by some other - oh bloody hell! Another energy surge. He’s on the move, headed for the roof.”

Brandt spares a quick look at Phil. “You have some explaining to do, Agent Coulson,” he says, but doesn’t wait for a response and takes off running down the corridor.

Phil ignores the adolescent flutter in his stomach at Brandt knowing his name and runs after the Chief Analyst turned field agent. He bursts out onto the roof only to be tackled to the ground by Brandt as an energy burst explodes over their heads. Brandt jumps back up with a small curse and continues the chase. Phil assesses the situation and takes off along the far side of the roof to cut off the only other avenue of escape.

“Sitwell?” Phil asks into his own comm.

“We’ve got agents headed up to the roof just ahead of where Hunt is chasing him,” Jasper responds.

“Hunt’s down,” Phil corrects as he runs. “That’s Brandt. You need to send medics to Hunt’s last position.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Legolas,” warns Gandalf. “you’re headed straight toward a group of whoever these other guys are.”

“SHIELD,” huffs Brandt, sounding unimpressed.

“Ah...that must explain Mr. Energy Hands,” says Gandalf cheerily, before calling out a warning. “You’ve got about an eight to ten foot drop to the next roof.”

Phil turns a corner in time to see the mutant Hydra agent make a flying leap off the roof and Brandt follow a few seconds later without any hesitation. He hears a grunt that tells him that Brandt landed, but doesn’t have the vantage point to see the IMF agent end the leap with a graceful tuck and roll that gets him back on his feet with barely a pause.

“Well that was impressive,” comments Sitwell. 

Phil drops himself down to the next roof in a much gentler move - there’s no way his bum ankle would take the leap - and continues after Brandt. 

“Down!” yells Brandt and Phil automatically jumps behind an air conditioning unit as another energy blast zooms by. 

“Keep your hands down,” orders a voice Phil recognizes as Jenkins and he shakes his head at the junior agent’s useless command.

Phil peers around the corner and sees Brandt in a squat behind his own AC unit. The mutant is now facing the SHIELD agents, clearly unintimidated by the dozen assembled men and women. The mutant’s hands start to take on a brighter glow and Phil prepares to shout a warning.

“Fuck this,” Phil hears Brandt mutter and two gunshots ring out in quick succession. 

The mutant is now puddled in a heap of misery, his bloody hands tucked into his body. The SHIELD agents stare in disbelief as Brandt tucks his gun into his back holster, calmly walks over to the mutant, and snags a memory drive from his pocket. Brandt walks away without a backward glance, giving Gandalf his status and requesting Hunt’s condition as he goes.

William Brandt, it would seem, is much more than a distraction. Not only is he an extremely intelligent analyst, but a competent field agent with bravery bordering on insanity. Phil doesn’t stand a chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slow smile spreads across Will’s face that makes Phil’s toes curl.

“So who made the decision to fuck us over yesterday?”

The comment, delivered mildly despite its content, draws Hill and Sitwell’s attention away from Hunt and over to the Chief Analyst. The other three IMF agents smirk. Hunt leans back with a twinkle in his eyes that Phil suspects doesn’t bode well for his side of the table. 

Brandt, sitting just to the right of Hunt, continues to type away on his laptop and only glances up when there is no response to his question. Brandt’s eyes meet Phil’s for a moment before they slide away to glance at Hill, Sitwell, and finally turning toward Hunt with a questioning tilt of his head.

“Did I stutter?” Brandt asks.

“No, Will,” Ethan responds with a grin. “We all heard your question quite clearly.”

Brandt turns back to the SHIELD agents expectantly. Phil has a feeling he knows exactly where this conversation is going to go, but they had agreed to let Hill take the lead.

“We had no way of knowing --”

Brandt holds up a hand to cut off Maria’s response.

“Before you complete that statement in whatever way you were planning on,” Brandt says calmly. “Be aware that I was the one who put in the alert, so I know exactly what level of information was provided and when. I also know that the information was accessed several times within SHIELD - by yourselves, several analysts, and the director himself.”

“The information we had was not substantial enough to warrant a response to the alert,” Maria says cooly.

“Benji?” Brandt asks without looking away from Hill.

“Twenty-five agents and support staff on the ground,” the IMF agent responds. “Minor really...but the tank-van thingy they had around the corner, now that was impressive.”

“Hmmm. That’s quite a ground force for unsubstantial information,” Hunt comments idly and Phil wonders if Hill realizes she’s walking into an already scripted debate she won’t win.

“By the time we received more concrete intelligence, it was too late to warn your team,” Maria responds. “Sending in our own team was the only option available.”

Dunn rolls his eyes while Hunt and Carter both smirk like cats who’ve caught the mouse. Brandt only looks mildly disappointed.

“So your breaking into our comm systems was only partially successful?” he asks.

Sitwell can’t quite hide his guilty flinch and glances at Phil because he’d asked the same question before running into the building to intercept Hunt. Brandt shuts the lid of the laptop with a sigh. He runs a rough hand over his face, looking tired beyond his years.

“Look,” Brandt says. “I know that putting an end to this jurisdictional pissing contest is impossible no matter how stupid I think it is. None of the _senior_ agents seem to understand that we’re putting lives on the line - last night was just one example. IMF is just as guilty of it, I know, and I don’t condone that either. What I _am_ hoping is that we have enough respect for each other that we’ll at least admit to our decisions when we’re caught in the act.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Fury concedes as he walks into the room. He extends a hand across the table towards Brandt, who stands to take it. “It’s good to see you alive and well, Chief Brandt. Even under these circumstances.”

Brandt’s eyes narrow at the use of the title and Phil can almost see the wheels turning in the man’s head as Fury turns to greet the other IMF agents. 

“I made the call,” Fury adds, turning back to face Brandt, “and it was the wrong one. You have my word that it won’t happen again.”

Brandt tilts his head slightly and gives Fury an assessing look. “You assume that means something to me.”

Maria’s surprised intake of breath is audible in the small room. Phil bites back a smile, but the other IMF agents don’t bother hiding their matching grins. This is a far cry from the nervous young man at the inter-agency meeting. Fury only smirks like it’s exactly the response he was expecting. 

“Very well,” responds Fury. “As requested, Agent Coulson will be the new SHIELD liaison to the IMF. He is authorized to share whatever information with you he sees fit. We look forward to working with you.”

Fury leaves the room in a swirl of black leather with Hill and Sitwell at his heels.

“Is he always that...” Dunn starts.

“Dramatic?” Phil finishes, standing. “Yes. It’s part of his charm.”

Brandt lets out an amused huff and Phil lets himself smile at the other man.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been properly introduced,” Phil says and holds out a hand for Brandt to shake. “I’m Phil Coulson.”

“Will Brandt.” 

Brandt’s handshake is firm and Phil experiences something he’d always scoffed at when described in his sister’s romance novels. There is a frisson of electricity, a connection where his skin meets Brandts’ that takes Phil totally by surprise. He finds himself holding the other man’s hand for longer than is appropriate and Brandt makes no attempt to pull away.

“Will and Phil climb a hill for a kill. Don’t catch a chill or you might get ill.” Dunn sing-songs and all eyes in the room turn toward him incredulously. “What?! They rhyme.”

Carter smacks him in the back of the head and Dunn’s exaggerated pout earns fond head shakes from the rest of the team. Phil realizes that he’s still holding Brandts’ hand and slowly lets go. The movement causes Brandt to startle slightly, before letting his hand drop with a light blush staining his cheeks. 

Hunt reaches over to give Phil a quick handshake. “Thanks for your help out there, Agent Coulson.”

“The least I could do,” Phil replies. 

“I assume you’re sticking around here?” Hunt asks Brandt, who nods.

“I’d like to see if we can make a connection between Markham’s sudden new powers and the information we got on the drive.” Brandt stops and turns to Phil. “That’s if you have the time, Agent Coulson.”

“I’m free for the rest of the day,” Phil responds.

Carter walks up and puts a hand on Brandt’s shoulder. “Please don’t forget to sleep. It’s not healthy that you sleep more on missions than you do when you’re home.”

Brandt gives her a self-deprecating smile. “To be fair, that was only because Ethan slipped me a sedative.”

“You needed it,” Hunt says unapologetically. “You know my rule. You’re free to do the same if I ever show up for an op looking like I hadn’t slept in a month.”

“I promise to sleep,” Brandt mumbles and ducks his head against all the attention. 

Carter squeezes Brandt’s shoulder before moving away to let Dunn step up and give the analyst a complicated fist-bump/handshake sequence that Brandt returns with much less enthusiasm. 

“You did good out there,” Ethan says and grasps Brandt’s forearm in lieu of a handshake. 

“Thanks, Ethan.”

The IMF agents leave and Phil glances down at his watch. It’s just on the late-end of lunch.

“Why don’t we grab some lunch? Our cafeteria is actually fairly good and we can work more comfortably in my office,” Phil suggests.

“Lead the way.”

Working with Brandt is easier than Phil would have expected. Their thought processes are similar enough that they can follow the other’s logic without extensive explanations, but have enough differences to add new viewpoints and build on their ideas. Witnessing Brandt’s brilliance in person is impressive and many productive hours pass before either man notices. 

They’re sitting on Phil’s couch with a rough plan for a joint SHIELD-IMF op laid out on the coffee table in front of them, when Brandt’s stomach growls loudly and Phil’s rumbles in response. They look at each other sheepishly for a moment before Brandt starts gathering the papers into a pile.

“I guess this is as good a stopping point,” the analyst says. “I’ll need to run it by the Secretary, but I don’t see him putting up much opposition.”

“I doubt Fury will either,” Phil agrees and hands Brandt a second stack.

Brandt takes the papers and then turns to face Phil on the couch thoughtfully. “What’s Fury’s angle, here?” he asks. 

“He’s hoping to someday convince you into defecting from the IMF to SHIELD,” Phil answers honestly.

“What the hell does he want with me?”

“Your system’s a work of genius,” Phil says simply.

“Ah. So you figured that one out.” Brandt shrugs dismissively and bends down to put the papers in his messenger bag. There’s something about Brandt’s reaction that makes Phil pause and think a little deeper about the situation. It doesn’t take him long to come up with the most likely conclusion.

“You’re a bigger genius than I initially gave you credit for,” Phil finally says. 

Brandt grimaces and shakes his head. “I’m really not.”

“You’re choreographing all of this. Getting each of the different agency heads to cooperate and think its their decision. Making them all think that they’re getting or will get something better than everyone else in the end.” Phil can’t help but smile when Brandt shrugs again. “You’re an idealist.”

“No, I’m not,” Brandt protests. “I’m paid to find patterns. What I saw were officers and agents walking into situations wholly unprepared for what they would be facing. Situations that could have been prevented if we’d valued lives instead of pushing our own agendas. It’s a waste.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short. What you’re attempting is commendable,” Phil says. “You’re a good man, Agent Brandt.” 

Brandt flushes and fiddles uncomfortably with the strap of his bag.

“So all that research into my background was for Fury?” he asks in attempt to change the subject and then frowns when Phil loses his relaxed posture. “You weren’t exactly trying to hide what you were doing,” Brandt points out, confused.

Phil hadn’t done anything to try and hide his inquiries into Brandt’s history. He hadn’t seen the point in hiding from someone who he’d assumed was already deceased. Now Brandt is giving him an out. It would be easy to use the excuse he’s being handed and keep this entirely professional. But there’s a voice screaming inside his head not to let this opportunity, not to let Brandt, slip away again.

“No,” Phil confesses. “The background search was personal. I thought you’d died in Moscow and I wanted to learn more about the fascinating man I’d seen across a table in Florence.”

Brandt’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t drop his gaze as he asks, “And now that you know I’m alive?”

“I know a great Italian place that’s open late. I’d really like to take you to dinner, Agent Brandt.”

“It’s Will,” Brandt replies, giving him a smile that steals the air from Phil’s lungs. “and dinner sounds great.”

Phil can’t hide his relieved grin at Will’s response as he stands to lead them out of his office and down to his car. They’re mostly silent on the short drive to the restaurant, stealing glances at each other like nervous teenagers. There a few awkward attempts at conversation once they’re seated at the table and Phil is starting to fear that the impromptu date is going to do an impressive impersonation of the Hindenburg. Then Will waves his hand nervously, tipping over his water glass, and Phil ends up knocking his own, thankfully empty, glass over in his attempt to catch it. They both stare at the glass for a second before Will starts to chuckle and Phil follows suit, finally breaking the tension at the table. 

Phil lets go of Will’s glass before setting his own glass upright. It’s enough of a distraction that he doesn’t see Will’s hand move until it’s covering his own. Phil’s reaction to where they touch hasn’t dissipated from earlier and his stomach flutters in anticipation. The IMF agent gives him another warm, open smile and Phil turns his hand to hold Will’s properly, still feeling a little like a teenager. 

The conversation flows much better after that. It’s a new experience for Phil, to talk with someone who shares such a similar history. They swap horror stories about basic, arguing whether an intense six weeks was better or worse than an entire year being treated as sub-human. Phil gives Brandt crap for being Air Force because it’s required and couldn’t call himself a Ranger otherwise. They discuss their favorite movies and books, finding a shared love for George R. R. Martin and Tolkien. They talk until the owner apologetically tells them that he needs to close for the night. It’s now well into the early morning hours and they beg forgiveness from the staff who have stayed so late. Phil thanks the owner, who waves him off, and watches as Brandt not-so-slyly leaves a generous tip beneath his plate. 

Phil guides Will out the door of the restaurant with a hand at the small of younger man’s back, his arm naturally slipping around Will’s waist when the other man leans a little closer as they walk. They reach the end of their short walk and Phil finds himself deftly maneuvered between Will and the car. Both the move and well-muscled body now pressed against his are a reminder that Will is a trained and, now active, field agent. Will tilts his head in a silent question and Phil answers by closing the final distance between their lips. 

The first kiss is almost chaste, but it still sends a shockwave of desire through Phil. Will braces his arms against the car and presses closer. Phil’s hands land on Will’s hips, angling his head to deepen the next kiss. Each kiss leads to another until somehow, through the haze, Phil’s brain re-engages enough to remind him that a busy street is not the ideal venue for this. He finds the strength to pull back and rests his forehead against Will’s as Phil tries to catch his breath. 

“Lunch and dinner count as two, right?” Will asks, sounding equally breathless.

“Isn’t three traditionally required?” Phil can’t help asking. He’s feeling decidedly unlike himself, which is equally exhilarating and terrifying. 

A slow smile spreads across Will’s face that makes Phil’s toes curl. “There’s always breakfast.”

Phil pushes away his fear and takes Will home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil doesn’t expect to get turned away, if the few stolen days they’ve managed together and the hours of phone conversations over the last six months are anything to go by. He’s just not sure if they’re at that stage in their relationship where one of them can show up unannounced, exhausted, and needing the comfort that only the shelter of the other man’s arms can provide.

Phil loses count of how many times he calls himself a fool between New Mexico and the hallway outside Will’s apartment. He tells himself over and over that he shouldn’t be giving in to the impulse, no matter how crazy this last mission has been or how glad he is to be alive. Yet Phil still finds himself raising his hand to knock on Brandt’s door.

It’s not that Phil thinks Brandt will turn him away. Their first night together had been amazing and the next morning even better than the night before. It wasn’t just the sex - which was admittedly spectacular - but how comfortable they felt in each other’s space. The weird awkwardness from the beginning of dinner never returned. They had spent a lazy morning together having sex, making breakfast, and telling stories about their childhoods before Will had gotten a call from the office. Phil had driven Brandt back to his car a few hours later, still patting himself on the back for thoroughly distracting the younger man with shower sex.

Phil refused to call it a long distance relationship. He had always straddled both the DC and New York SHIELD headquarters, so spending a little more time in DC wasn’t out of the ordinary. They struck a nice balance, talking more often than Phil had expected, both for and outside of work. The joint op had gone off without a hitch - Phil and Will celebrating their success by spending a quiet weekend holed up in Will’s apartment. Fury had looked smug for weeks afterward and Phil wished he could rule out the possibility of Nick orchestrating this whole thing to salvage Phil’s floundering love life.

So no, Phil doesn’t expect to get turned away, if the few stolen days they’ve managed together and the hours of phone conversations over the last six months are anything to go by. He’s just not sure if they’re at that stage in their relationship where one of them can show up unannounced, exhausted, and needing the comfort that only the shelter of the other man’s arms can provide. 

Whatever misgivings Phil may have disappear when the door swings open. He wants to scold Will for opening the door without asking who was on the other side, but he’s too busy catching the IMF agent as he launches himself at Phil. 

“Phil! Oh thank God!” 

Will’s hug is a little too tight, but Phil is squeezing back just as tightly. He doesn’t understand the tinge of desperation he feels in Will’s grip until the words being mumbled into his neck finally register in his tired brain.

“I know you won’t be able to tell me anything about it, but if I believe half the intel coming out of New Mexico...” 

Will pulls back to bracket Phil’s head with his hands, eyes roving over his face like Will hadn’t expected to see him again, before surging forward to kiss him soundly. Phil returns the kiss greedily, arms crushing Will to him as his head swims with the knowledge that Will _understands_. He won’t ask Phil for details, no matter how worried he’s been, but he will offer the comfort Phil needs. With Will, Phil doesn’t have to worry about secrets piling onto one another, eating away at their relationship until nothing is left but lies.

They eventually break apart and Will scowls when he gets a good look at Phil.

“ _Jesus_ , Phil. Did you come straight here? You look like you’re about to fall over.”

Phil wants to argue, except getting here has sapped the last of energy and he sags into Will’s arms as he’s manhandled into the apartment and onto the couch. 

“Do you need some water? Food?” Will asks as he helps Phil slide his jacket off with gentle hands, draping it over a nearby chair. He sits next to Phil and brushes a strand of loose hair back from Phil’s forehead. “I have some of that Earl Grey you favor.”

Phil doesn’t say a word, just shakes his head and wraps his arms around Will’s waist when the other man makes a move to get up. Will wraps his own arms around Phil and settles back against the couch with kiss to Phil’s temple. _This_ is what Phil was searching for when he came here - Will’s steady heartbeat under his ear and strong arms surrounding him, reminding him there is more to life than the horrors he’d just witnessed.

“Sleep, Phil,” Will commands quietly and Phil’s eyes slide closed between one beat and the next.

Phil wakes an undetermined number of hours later and finds himself alone on the couch, covered with a light blanket. It’s full dark outside the windows instead of the mid-morning sun Phil had arrived with. He can hear Will puttering around in the kitchen and turns when the noise stops. Phil smiles at Will and then sits up quickly when he notices there’s something off about how the other man is walking. 

“You’re hurt,” Phil says accusingly as Will perches on the coffee table across from him. Will had been gone on an op in the weeks prior to Phil leaving for New Mexico, but it never occurred to him that Will could have been injured. 

“It happens,” Will says with a smile. “You look better.”

“Don’t change the subject. How bad?” Phil asks. Anything that still has Will limping after this much time couldn’t have been minor.

“Gunshot wound. Through-and-through. I’m fine,” Will responds. 

There’s definitely something Will isn’t telling him. “And if I asked Carter?”

Will frowns, brow furrowing unhappily. Phil knows it isn’t playing fair, but he’s not beyond calling the only member of Ethan’s team that wouldn’t call anything short of decapitation a minor injury. Will pouts for a few seconds - Phil fighting not find it adorable - before giving in.

“Jane would tell you that the bullet went clean through my thigh, nicking my femoral artery, and that I could have bled out if they hadn’t gotten me medical attention as quickly as they did.” Will leans forward and grabs Phil’s hands. “But they did and I’m _fine_ , Phil.”

Phil can’t hear anything beyond the roaring in his ears. The thought of losing Will strikes him hard, harder than it should after such a short amount of time. Imagining a life without Will, now that they’ve found each other, is incomprehensible. Phil struggles against the tidal wave of emotions, trying to make sense of the overwhelming need to protect and cherish William Brandt. 

“I’m in love with you,” Phil blurts out, startling them both. 

Will eyes widen and then he tilts his head, looking confused. “Should I apologize?” 

“What?! Why would you...” Phil trails off because that isn’t the reaction he’s expecting.

“It’s just that you sounded surprised and not necessarily pleased at the realization,” Will explains.

Phil turns his hands so they’re holding onto Will’s. “No. Well, yes, but not -” Phil stops talking, closes his eyes, and tries to gather his thoughts. When he opens his eyes, Will is giving him a fond smile.

“If it helps,” Will says gently, “I’ve known for a while that I’m in love with you.”

 _That doesn’t help at all_ , Phil thinks because any coherent thoughts he may have formed fly right back out of his head. It must show on his face because Will throws his head back and laughs. Phil wants to spend the rest of his life listening to that sound.

“I love you,” Phil says with more confidence.

“I love you too,” Will replies, still grinning.

Phil tries to bask in their newly found happiness, but can’t keep concerns from crowding into his mind. Will shakes his head and Phil is beginning to realize that having no masks against this man will put him at a disadvantage in this relationship.

“What are you thinking now?” Will asks.

“I’m not very good at relationships,” Phil confesses.

“I work for the IMF and you work for SHIELD. I think being bad at relationships is part of the hiring criteria,” Will counters. “At least we don’t have to worry about hiding what we really do and I’d like to make the attempt, if you do.”

Phil nods his head in acknowledgement before taking a deep breath. “My best friend is Nick Fury.”

“Mine is Ethan Hunt.” Will smirks and gets up to straddle Phil on the couch, movements barely hampered by how he’s favoring his leg. “I think I’ve got you beat on that one.”

“I have three older sisters and a younger brother. They’re all married and have more kids than I can possibly keep track of. You’ll have to meet all of them - probably during a holiday,” Phil warns.

Will laughs again and leans forward until he has Phil trapped between his arms, bracing them on the back of the couch. “I can’t beat that. I’m an only child, but my mother is the unofficial president of our local women’s group at the country club. All they do is play golf and gossip. _You’ll_ probably have to meet them at some fancy charity gala or other.”

Phil puts his hands on Will’s hips and grins back, giving in to Will’s infectious mood. “I can handle that.”

“Anything else?” Will asks and leans even closer until their lips are barely an inch apart. 

“Much more,” Phil responds. He slides his hands under and up Will’s shirt, the touch making the younger man suck in a quick breath.

“Bring it,” Will challenges and closes the gap.

_fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with a bonus Christmas ficlet here: [A Very Beta Christmas](http://tmblr.co/Ziin0ua43Myv)


End file.
